


The Vizier

by JzanderN, Snugy321



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Star vs. The Forces Of Evil, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, 光神話 | Kid Icarus (Video Games)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Government, M/M, Multi, Negotiations, Peacekeepers, Philosophy, Post-War, Questioning, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JzanderN/pseuds/JzanderN, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snugy321/pseuds/Snugy321
Summary: Have you ever had that person you want to thank for everything, but can't because they have to go away?
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Moon Butterfly/Original Male Character(s), Palutena (Kid Icarus)/Original Male Character(s), Palutena/Pit (Kid Icarus), Princess Cadance/Shining Armor (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic), Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)/Original Character(s), Zelda (Legend of Zelda)/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. Arrival in Hyrule

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is based on a roleplay I had, but also added elements of our own. Most of this is experimental and I promise to get my other fanfic done or... something. Please give feedback to anything I did wrong in the comment section below. Also, some chapters have special code on its title. Find out what it is ;)

Its cold; obscenely such. He don’t know where he is. It seems... Earthly, but also foreign. This is next level of winter. There’s a ruin about two kilometre in front of him and he walks towards it. Not much is on him; just a map and a hope of finding civilization in this barren wasteland. The boots he’s wearing are wearing on its soles and the winds are blowing him back as a result. He perseveres and found someone up ahead.

“Weary traveller, it seems that you are lost,” that someone said.

“I suppose not, but actually yes,” he replied back.

He observes the details; blue eyes, solar golden hair, stretched ears as if a screwed-up game of GMod, it’s a woman, he sees; yet... not? He can’t put his finger on it. He follows the strange woman back to the ruins, a large one in fact. The stones covered in thin ice and vines of evergreen entwine your visual input. There is a large atrium, observed by a piece of dome lay barren in the middle of the room. Tall medieval windows and long corridors can only tell one thing.

“A castle?”

“Yes, Hyrule Castle, in fact. Its been awhile since someone of nobility steps into this ruin.”

“Are you, though?” she asked quizzaciously.

“Nah, I’m just a _musafir;_ a journeyman,” he replied.

He follows her again, deep into the fallen dome, where a man in blue is maintaining a fire for warmth. His hair is insultingly long, and just as blond as the woman. “Must be relatives,” he thought back in his mind. He sits just south of the hearth, the woman facing west and the man facing east.

“Company,” the blond laconically said.

“Indeed. Sorry to disturb your home.”

“What’s your name, o journeyman?” the woman asked.

Its been awhile since someone asked that question to him. He always keep his real name from others; in fear of getting caught for the crimes he did. But he knows that’s wrong. Its best to give himself in, but clandestinely. His identity is best left for guesses, or mythology.

He came up with an answer, “Quills.”

“Oh, I’m Zelda and this is Link,” the woman replied.

“Yes,” Link replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Quills.”

Quills nod and gets his hand out from his blue jacket, wet with melted snow. It seems that the only element left from this desolate of a grand castle is these people, guarding it. There’s a sword to his left, on the back of a shield, coloured blue, yellow and purple. Its sheen blinds him from seeing more details of it. It seems... heirloom, like it has seen countless battles from foes ago. But its edge remain sharp, awkwardly so; inhumanely so.

“Damascus steel?”

“No,” Link replied, “but something similar.”

“I was assuming that that knowledge’s lost,” Quills replied.

“The Master Sword is an heirloom weapon to the Hero of Hyrule and was forged by the goddess Hylia herself. It was blessed by three springs across Hyrule and its said that its given to the chosen hero by the goddess herself. Its the weapon that seals darkness and evil away,” Zelda explains concisely.

“I see; observable.”

“It seems that technology here really is greater than the one’s back at my place. We regard technology not as mythical but more... practical, problem-solving complications in the real world instead of revering a deity through constant development. It is profound, I should say.”

“Sheikah technology is ancient, but its actually fascinating. It can create divine beasts and move huge rocks with ease. It even created this,” Zelda break down as she produces what seems to Quills to be a tablet.

“Ah. I see,” Quills said. His mind goes into questioning mode; “Is this civilization advanced enough so I can stay here for a while, or is it just me that’s too advanced for them?” His hands scratch his chin, but only for a while; he looks up and see the embers of the hearth dancing, like fireflies in summer. He thought again, “Someday, I’ll be like them if I’m good enough, fly high and die out. A small speck of light, sure; but enough for at least _someone_ to take interest.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“N- Nothing, Zelda! Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He coughs and gets his paper out; sort of soaked from the snowstorm. He opens it in front of them, laying in on the ground. “I assume we’re somewhere in the middle, yes?” Quills asked. Zelda and Link hunches over the map, looking at it keenly. The map is in surprising detail, for an A4 paper. It seems, to both, that this map is no work of a Hyrulean, it seems that this map is… divine.

“Nice. Detailed,” Link commented.

He can see everything; Hyrule Castle, Gerudo Town, Death Mountain, Duelling Peaks, nearly everything. Its strewn before them, in exquisite accuracy. His memories fire up in the grey matter of his brains; the time he tried crossdressing, the time he defeated Calamity Ganon, the time Zelda implicitly tells him she loves him. Everything flashes by like it was a Bourne movie. He closed his eyes for a moment. Quills looks at him. His facial features describe… nostalgia, a longing view to the past. His face seems… calm. It calms him too.

“How did you gain a map with such detail?” Zelda asked.

“Its always with me since I’m here.” Quills after all came here by basically thrown into a frigid storm. He doesn’t know how to escape, but at the back of his mind he thought, “Alright, this seems to be the way out.” I don’t know why, but it’s just… there.”

“Maybe a sign of times to come? Indeed, it’s a map, but… it can be _anything._ ”

“Possibly. But maybe not.” Link lays down and crosses his legs.

Zelda snuggles up, not with anybody, just with a thick futon and sleeping bag cross over, sort of like a very fluffy burlap sack. Both slept. Quills stays up and contemplates.


	2. AR3112 Part 1: Gerudo and Early Sketches

Its spring. The flowers are bursting as if they want to expose themselves to the elements; bare for all to see. The three ‘heroes’ stroll around the surrounding of the castle, looking for lost walls and any other elements of the dilapidated, abandoned castle.

“Yikes,” Quills said.

“Indeed. The castle needs restoring before Hyrule can emerge again,” Zelda said with a sombre tone. She noted where Hylia’s shrine should be, where’s the throne room, the dining room, and so on. Her eyes switch between looking at her surroundings and her notebook, on which she expounded on you further; listing every single observation she made. Quills is confounded, yet astounded, to learn that such attentive person still exist in such a nature, considering they are blissfully ignorant with their surroundings. “Not these two, though,” Quills thought on the back of his mind. “Neat.”

Eventually, most of the castle is survey and plotted, giving Quills, Zelda, and Link, a good overview on what the castle looks like before the Calamity. It revealed that the castle was… astonishingly beautiful. Tall corridors and vast halls deck the chateau, more so than Versailles, if Quills’s memory serves him right. Each of the bedchamber found is more than enough for a layman, nay, yeoman family to live in. The kitchen, which sparked his interest, is very well laid.

“Good grief is this an uphill battle,” Quills said quietly.

“Not if we have friends,” Link replied.

“Who?”

“I know a few. Why don’t I invite them here?” Zelda’s and Quills’s eyebrows lift, signifying inquiry.

“Are you sure, Link? Won't the trek will be treacherous? I worry about your safety, not to mention the distance. I’ll be aghast and torn if you don’t return promptly,” Zelda beg Link.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

And with that, he rides into the sunset; unarmed.

-o-0-o-

Gerudo Town seems to be in better shape than ever. Welp... mostly. Ever since the Calamity, Riju has led the desert-fairing settlement into a thriving city, bustling with trade and a Renaissance level of arts and culture, mostly revering the fallen Lady Urbosa. Link trots into the town, using his disguise a friend of his had given many months ago. He’s now easily spottable by every woman in town, as they sang praise of his dashing looks. Indeed, not much of what they perceive as a blonde, flat-chested woman, ever come to this corner of the Great Empire. “My oh my is this place dashing,” Link thought.

“Welcome, it seems that you’re weary from your journey,” said Riju.

He nods; “Indeed,” he told her and wishes for entrance to the palace. Riju obliged. Once they’re there, Link opens up, “Can I ask your favour?”

“What is it?” She put up an inquisitive look.

“Well, you see, I’m a delegation of Her Highness Princess Zelda, for she’s asking for aide in the reconstruction of Hyrule Castle,” Link concisely explained.

“Well, I certainly can help. But... under one condition; what can you offer _currently_?” Riju conversed to him.

“Eh?”

“I mean, you came up pretty much empty-handed. Certainly, Zelda would offer us _something_ in return.” Riju’s voice is getting husky.

“Eh?!”

-o-0-o-

“But won’t the roof fall off?!” Quills is confused by Zelda’s proposal; an arched roof.

“Trust me on this. It’ll give the castle its unique feel.”

“But won’t minimalism achieve the same effect?”

They both look at the table, in a flurry of rage, pride, and confusion, on what the design of the castle should be. Quills advocated for a minimalist design, with simple rectangles and circles, to save cost and time on the reconstruction; while simultaneously give Hyrule Castle a new identity, going along with the zeitgeist. Zelda put forward a more traditional design; after all, she used to live there and know what the castle looks like before its destroyed; so, it’s best not to tamper with the design of yore.

“Hmmm…”

The one thing they both agree on is that the centrepiece of the castle, the throne room, shouldn’t be altered in any way. Based on observation of the fallen top piece, their current home, by the way, the throne room have a very tall void and connects the eastern and western wing of the castle. Itself is also the epicentre on what Quills call ‘The Rays of Royalty’, since the king’s, queen’s, and princess’s bedroom are in proximity to it, encircling it like onions.

“Why don’t we strike a deal; you take the west wing, I take the eastern wing? How about that?” Zelda looks at him for a while.

“Seems like not too bad of a deal,” Quills said. “Or we can come up with a combined design?”

“But won’t that go in the way of our vision? You did design nearly everything from the ground up, save for the throne room,” Zelda poses a rhetoric.

“Indeed. But I suppose that it’s better to blend up the design instead. After all, Hyrule’s doing it currently; not much gabled houses and medieval era, from what I can see.”

Quills catches sight of her and decides to look into her more carefully. She is an intelligent woman but has that… childishness he come to tolerate. He might fell for it someday, but he keeps that wild desires pinned down rather than to express it now. God, or rather Hylia, knows what happened to him in high school. Yikes; to the third and insulting degree of the definition.

“Ah.”

They pour over the design once more, filled with mutual respect. Zelda catches glimpse on his temporary pause and decides to keep it a secret.

-o-0-o-

The horse Link ride gallops as if flying. The night is over him and he packs nothing, other than some supplies Riju gave him back in the castle, her good tidings and her trust on rebuilding the fallen castle. He seems... tired, but it is expected if you deal with the leader thirsty for a touch from someone. “She must be on her dry spell,” he thought on the back of his mind.

The Hyrulean field is vast and few people roam it as much as he does. It seems that after all these years, the field’s is only his to have, along with some mercenaries doing odd jobs in and around the kingdom. They said of the nomads who used to roam the paths he took and forests that he enters, but he sees them not now. It is a lonely trek, but he’ll survive like he always did.

He stops the horse on a not too large tree and tie it taut there. He grabs three branches and created a makeshift tent for himself. It seems that this’ll be a long enough to be alone with his thought, out of the discourse of Quills and Zelda. He contemplates on what’s next for them, for the kingdom, and for himself, his past, his future, his present. He slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay ay ay, sorry to keep y'all waiting. This chapter'll be immensely long, so currently I'm splitting it into parts, then merge them once all of the parts are finished. Thanks so much for stopping by, it really drives me to keep on writing, amidst my everyday mundanity. :)


	3. AR3112 Part 2: Gorons, Inquiry, and An Accident

Special equipment is made, indeed, for special purposes. In the hellish condition of Eldin, not many men can survive being basically broiled at temperatures exceeding 2273 K. Well, fortunately Link brought with him his heat armour, so he’s protected. He still remembered the time he must face his own friend, Daruk, back when he needs to defeat Calamity Ganon. The site where the battle took place is now some sort of a natural monument. He looks upon the Gorons, visiting the place to remember what seems to him to be a proximate past. He taps one of their shoulders; “Excuse me, is there a way I can speak to your leader?” “Well, that seems to be a moot point. There isn’t any,” that someone said. He looks stunned; naturally, he seems to gain allies left and right, no problem. But without a central leadership, he doesn’t know who to talk to.

He looks around for what he perceives to be as the leader’s home. With a thin “thanks,” he left swiftly. When he arrived, he knocks formally, yet gently. After all, he doesn’t know who’s inside; could be a stranger, a long-lost friend, even a foe. What’s important for him is that even in peace, he always suspend judgement and memory, and keep his guard up. The door opens as if someone wants to ragequit from said home.

“Ah, welcome Hylian! It seems that you’re the one for the ethnography program, eh?” the white-haired Goron welcomed here.

“Thank you, but you’re mistaken. I have something of larger importance to be solved.” He welcomes Link in and lets him sit down on the floor.

“Oh, please do tell. Anything to drink?” Link raises his right hand as a gentle sign of rejection. He pours himself some geothermally heated water and sat down in front of him.

“So, what is it that you want to ask?”

“Apologies for not introducing myself first; my name’s Link; envoy of Princess Zelda, tasked to find help on reconstructing the Hyrule Castle.” The Goron froze, then his pupils grow large.

“Ooh, the one on Hyrule Field?! Sure, sure, we’ll gladly help! It’s been awhile since we got a tender this large!” The Goron’s sound seem… ecstatic, almost in a state of euphoria. “What’ll you offer in return? This’ll be beneficial for both of us.”

Link’s hand rests on his chin, forming a bridge to support his head. He thought of what he saw before and what he sees now. He came up with an answer, “How about in exchange for a job on the castle, we’ll improve your infrastructure? It seems that your roads are not too well-maintained, not to mention the exhaustingly long distance from the nearest city not populated by Gorons.” The Goron agreed immediately.

-o-0-o-

“What are you looking at, Quills?”

“Not much, Zelda. Just… the map.”

He sets up a new camp, to gain purer inspiration on the castle design. Zelda followed, bringing most of the knitted goods whilst Quills carries the heavier stuffs. At least from what he can see on the map, this was a particularly lively place before time erode it all away into virgin forests. There were these complicated mazes of streets, filled with small houses, seemingly interlocked with one another, like Catalhüyük but even more spastic.

“What was this place, though? All I can see are these random lines strewn here and there. Not much in the way of pattern.”

“From what I observe, this seems to be the remnant of a market. I mean,” Zelda argues as she gets closer, “ These streets are too narrow for any large vehicles to pass.”

“I see.”

They lay off their body on the grass; strangely not itchy, as Quills found out. Its cilia fondle each cell of his epidermis as the wind makes its way, ebbing and flowing, through his ear. The sun longs for the infinitely drawn horizon, spurting purple and oranges to his face. He folds his hands behind his head and closes his eyes for a while.

Seeing that his sleep seems undisturbed, Zelda decides to take her bath; after all, at the back of her mind, its been too long foe a woman to look so dishelved. She opens her blue shirt, out of Quills’s imaginary line of sight, to let some air out. Once that’s done, she grabbed some firewood and the large pot usually used to make soups and what not and make a fireplace. She then carries that pot to a small stream nearby and fills it up with some water. Once she’s back, the pot is placed on the fireplace and the woods are set ablaze. She waited patiently for the water to be just warm enough; its going to be a long and cold night. The sound of the fires crackling strangely lulls Quills to a deep slumber.

Evaluating this situation, she risks it all. Stubbornly, she put her pants too close to the fire. She pulled it off immediately, saving it from being torched like an overdone crème brulee.

“Wh- what?” Quills woke up. He immediately sees things that he wasn’t _suppose_ d to see. Both yelped; Zelda out of embarrassment, Quills out of shock value.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry!” She desperately covers herself up, this immoral, naked human skin.

“At least warn me first!”

After some 30 long, drawn-out, eternal seconds, Zelda’s blush hasn’t fade yet. Both stays still as the water hits 373 K. Her barren shoulders bob up and down, drawing a sinusoidal wave in respect to time. His pupils tighten up at first, but now its more relaxed.

“Apologies. I was just... shocked.”

“Its fine. I was the one ignorant to my surroundings.”

Silence, still.

“Shall I... or should you—”

“I suppose not,” Quills cut her words then and there, “I tried to keep my distance but if we’re left alone like this, there’s not much a man can do.” He lets out a sigh.

“Need assistance?”

“Not really, no. Perhaps my back.”

He puts the rigged pot aside, away from the flame. She grabbed her washing cloth and waited for the water to calm down. Both are still kooky from the incident, but with a sprinkle of camaraderie and perhaps a bit of lust, they soldiered on.

-o-0-o-

Its another lonely night for the blond. He’s defenceless from his surroundings and the weather isn’t cooperating. Rain fell bit by bit, soaking his tunic. He found, to his 9 o’clock position, a hut. He checks the inside and nobody’s there. It’s all good, he thought. He lay his damp body on what seems to him to be a bed. He thought to himself on who he actually is. “If I was the man that defeated Calamity Ganon, is the man that defeated Calamity Ganon me?” “I mean,” he keeps on dawdling, “he hasn’t been stuck in a cold destitute winter with what most people would agree to be the current leader of Hyrule and an intellectual, self-questioning, closed, secretive man. Certainly, time has an impact on who we are, just as the fields I roam isn’t as the same as the one I _used_ to when I was trying to save Zelda.”

This question bugs on him for a while; so much so that he sits. He keeps on thinking. “If that man is still me, then who is me? Am I my decisions? Am I that… raw feeling that occasionally override me every time Zelda opens up to me? Or am I… this empty space? This blank, inquisitive Lovecraftian abomination tasked on to find himself; to look in a mirror, on and on.”

Someone’s at the door, completely out of his sight. “Link?”

He recognized that voice, “Mipha?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been awhile. Sorry, y'all; writers block can be an annoying thing, let's face it. I have been brewing this one for awhile and its best to actually get this as soon as I had finished writing it. So, stay tuned 'cause it could get spicy from here on out. ;)


	4. AR3112 Part 3: Paused Nostalgia and A Question on Immortality

Once all subsides and Zelda had dressed up again, she and Quills go back to the plan. The drawings are more intricate, detailed, insufferably exhaustive. Each curve is always a single file graphite, never deviating from its course. Each line is so exact, its as if a computer made it out of math and electricity, not with sweat, muscle convulsions, and a very steady hand.

“You’re good at this.”

“Thank Uci for that, she’s the one that made me this good.” Quills keeps his arms at a span to open the rolled-up parchment for Zelda.

“Uci?”

“Yea, she’s the one that taught me these… arts, really. Before her, I can’t even draw a straight line.”

“She must be a dream to be with, then?!”

“Nah, I hate her.”

Zelda’s stumped. “How can you hate her and love her at the same time?”

“Won’t that be contradictive? Humans are a tripartite soul, after all; but all three are consubstantial and coeternal, only killed when the person dies of natural or man-made causes. All three make judgements simultaneously when faced with a problem and, from what I experience, its always the rational one that comes out.”

Quills gulped, looks at her, and without him thinking, he grabbed Zelda’s left shoulder. “And that is the central problem that I face; I don’t know who I am, nor the people that I talk to. Yes, most of us use our rational side as a ‘mask’ to hide our true colours, our feelings, from others. But that doesn’t stop the other side from grabbing the mic. Take a look at Link. He always seems to do what we told them to do, right? He seems complacent, compliant to whatever task he’s given. That’s the spirit of a soldier, obedient; like a dog. Whilst I, since when can I restrain myself?! Hylia knows I done fucked up most of the time I tried to interact with people and it always didn’t end up well. That is my irrational side taking helm; an unbound spirit, like a child, free.”

Zelda feels a sudden spike in her heartbeat; “So how can you tie that down? Don’t you have a control of yourself, Quills?”

Quills broke.

“Quills?!”

“The only foreseeable way that I can control myself, Goddess knows that’s hard to do alone, is for someone else to.”

She holds his chin up; “Is it what I think it is?”

“N- no! I just… I just…” Quills tears is a surprisingly volatile liquid, drying up faster than Lake Chad.

“Its more of a… thanks; an expression of gratitude for putting up with me. I know that I’m an insufferable, idiosyncratic asshole, and I’m of no value interacting with, forgive my pedantry, Your Royal Highness, of all people,” A thin fimbriae of smile is drawn on his tear-soaked face, “But this interaction, all of its fuck-ups, its faux-pas, and its short but sweet happy moments, is more valuable than the thousands of people I’ve ever saw.”

Zelda parries his grapple by bringing him close, “My pleasure, friend.”

The reader can synthesize what’s next.

-o-0-o-

  
“Its been a while, eh?”

“It is, Mipha. Thank Hylia you’re here.”

Link’s and Mipha’s arms had locked itself in, like pieces of Legos in a structure. Both heartbeats are creeping into overdrive, like the ending of a Formula One race. Most of their articles are randomly arranged across the hut. Its only their bare skin repelling each other. Yet, in that split second of long-lost whirlwind romance, they have never been closer. Mipha can catch every single contact point that Link’s lips had landed upon; her lips, her bosoms, her neck, even that part he manages to miss all those moons ago. There is no going back. They’re now too attached to pull away.

“But a question.”

Mipha raises an eyebrow.

“Would you help me searching for myself?”

Mipha snickered at the suggestion, “Oh, silly, you are you! You are my hero in shining armour, the one that freed me from the imprisonment that is Calamity Ganon. The one that singlehandedly save Hyrule; why would you want to search for yourself?”

Link released that hug and rise. “Hey wait-,” Mipha plead him.

Link stands in that claustrophobic, artificially natural room, looking into the hazy distance. The moon’s electron impacts his face, showering him with, what Mipha perceives, as new-fangled wisdom. “I am not what I am. You might be thinking as such; but from the books I’ve read¬¬, or read to, there’s always… this primordial concept of me, Zelda, and worst, Ganon. I am just a new edition of the concept of ‘Link’, nothing that I do is of my own. All had been predetermined by Hylia. If that, if that fact hasn’t stumped you yet, then who am I, what am I?”

He turned back, revealing wet eyes, “…who are you?”

Mipha look down on herself. Her head hung in philosophical discourse.

-o-0-o-

  
Zelda and Quills finally agreed upon a design. It looks like the old castle has been regurgitated, well at least if you’re a traditionalist. The tall spire, a neo-Brutalist monument of glass, steel, and freedom. The wings are a direct call back to when Quills was young, red geometric roofs with high-tech aspects, sort of like his faculty building. It takes inspiration from many things; the Gerudo desert dwellings, the Gorons ingenious way of natural ventilation, and so much more. Quills even designed what seems to be his emotions and experience in Hyrule into a single monument, placed about 200 metres from the entrance to the throne room; called “The Rejuvenated Hyrule”. It seems that this hands-on, kinaesthetic learning process has come to an end.

“Well, this is it. This is the final design,” Quills exhaled as he lay his body on the soft grass.

“Finally. It feels as if we’re there.”

Both look at each other, feeling as if they had made the castle. After all, half of the concept of “being” is if you believe it is. The rest is to prove, or construct, the thing that be. In a sense, you only need the approval of society to be, to exist. Most of mythology is that. If enough people believe in something, and they perceive that something is of any impact, then let it be. This argument is what had bugged Zelda for basically her existence, and her relationship to Hylia. She believes in the tangible, she postulates that if she can’t see it, or at least impacted by it, it doesn’t exist. Maybe, she thought, the idea of Hylia exists only because of the society that praised her had kept that idea and passed it on to generations after them. That is Hylia, a virus infecting not the body, but of the mind.

Quills noticed the strange shapes in Zelda’s face, “What’s on your mind, Zelda?”

“Is idea infectious?”

“Only if you sneeze, if you tell it to people. Most ideas go far because someone is a heck of a salesman of it. Even as simple as the idea of a perfect flower can be infectious, since most people can agree on what a beautiful flower is.”

“I see.”

Both sat as the air surrounding them stays still. Nothing is conveyed through any media perceivable, olfactory, visual, aural. Their ribcages are always out of sync from one another, expanding and contracting in regular, but out of phase. Their skin perforations only seem to expel nothingness, not even excess moisture. All’s still.

“But if we want to work that argument in reverse, Quills, can we achieve immortality?”

“You need sufficient people to deify you. You need to be so tangible, so obvious in ubiquity, that not even disbelievers can kill you. You need enough people,” Quills argue as he reaches for her hand, “to keep you alive.”

“I solemnly swear, Zelda. You’re the only logical concept in this whimsical world.”

She smiles. Is this a sign for the future, she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are, end of Chapter Two! Yay! Since now I have much more free time for this fanfic, I decided to make this somewhat of a semi-daily thing, publishing one chapter every day or two. Any inputs to this work of mine is welcomed; I need to grasp what you think of and what you want so that this fanfic became not just my creation, but yours too. Its such a pleasure to get myself doing something of regular schedule, and I hope this'll be a trend in the future. :D


	5. SI3151 and SI3251 Part 1: Genesis and Conduct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya guys. Sorry it took way longer than it should be (^^;) For this chapter (and possibly more in the future), I invited one of my friends over as co-author to speed up the process. His diction is a bit different than mine, so just adjust to this as you go. Anyways, enjoy.

An assembly of people are strewn before the triad. Their eyes are weirdly sunken in for such a grandiose occasion, such a vast congregation. Each of the triad’s lines, and their skins ebbs and flows draw a different reaction to this event. Zelda’s forehead wrinkles with a pronounced central line; cold sweat is trapped inside those folds. Link’s are more… calm, composed, nothing short of the ordinary. Quills’, however, is the brightest of the three. His face looks jovial, juvenile, blooming wider than any lilies.

The castle’s general idea is draped behind them. There, they can see what the castle would look like once construction is finished. Hyrule now owns what looks like a beautiful hodgepodge bodge of the past, present, and the future. Its eastern wing looks like a spacious, Orwellian transparent birdcage. Its western wings conjure up the halcyonid formative years of Hyrule, when they still live above the clouds. The throne room is kept to its original design, to an extent. The fallen central roof is replaced with a futuristic interpretation of the one previously there, mixing elements of each race’s architecture to create the interpretation of Hyrule today; disparate, yet eager to coalesce.

“Greetings, citizens,” Zelda opened the discussion. “I am Princess Zelda, and you were all summoned here for a task worthy of your life.”

“This will not be an easy task,” Quills added as he leans to the dais, “but we will see it out if we can cooperate. We believe that central to the Hyrulean identity is this blessed castle, this symbol of our unity.”

“I believe in all of you,” Link spoke last. “Every single one of you has an innate quality that can be donated to this undertaking. If we could defeat Calamity Ganon before, this is I think an easy task for us.”

Zelda asked, “Are there any objections?”

Someone hollered from behind, “Uh, yeah, any justifications on why the design is twisted, mate?”

“It looks like one of my fever dreams turned to reality,” another one tweeted.

“Well, indeed it may not satisfy everyone,” Quills riposted, “but we made sure that the design reflected what Hyrule was, is, and will be. It may not be what you _want_ , but it’s the one we _made._ ”

“…subconsciously.”

The crowd fell into a quiet hush. There’s still doubt drawn on the disbelievers' faces. Are they seriously, they thought, going to ruin what Rhoam had constructed so hard, as far as his whole life? Let’s start with the obvious. The princess was in exile, basically, when she locked Calamity Ganon. This blondie came from a no name village on the edge of the kingdom, now there’s this black-haired dunce. He left nothing to his name, since Ganon had committed _damnatia memoriae_ on him. Isn’t Rhoam what he had made for himself and the kingdom; the stuff he made, tangentially visible? Isn’t that what he is?

“Any more objections?”

Most bottle it to themselves. They don’t have the heart to tell them what they think about. Maybe it’s best for them to hold their peace and sloppily do their job. Everybody nodded.

“Well then, it’s off to the castle we go!” Quills exclaimed. The ‘yay’ that followed isn’t as enthused.

-o-0-o-

Soon, the central castle is finished, restored to its glory. The spire cast a Byzantine cross shaped light in the middle of the throne room. Keyhole arches, stained glass, and interestingly chemically etched steel adorns the squinches for the spire. The lighting presents the room as a place of convention, of brilliant ideas and of resolute. In short, it's elegant.

The trio admire the half-finished, half-cleaned ancient beauty. What was once unusable is now functional, at least. The workers, themselves included, are now working on the eastern wing; what would be Quills’s living quarters. “Dang,” he commented.

“Cool,” Link replied.

“All thanks to teamwork,” Zelda added, “without it, we can’t even fathom restoring this jewel.”

“Indeed.”

The three of them decide to split up to help construct the castle. Zelda and Link helped with the more traditional western wing, whereas Quills helped with the eastern wing. Obvious to the workers are their leadership style. Link gives concise instruction, almost insultingly to-the-book. He directly works alongside his subordinates. Zelda uses encouragement, more often than not. She is a girl after all, save for the ones hailing from Gerudo, but she helps what she can. She is knowledgeable on the style of yore and she informs them as they are working on it. Quills is a more artistic man, safe to say. He likes to bark people orders when it steps just a micron from his lines. Hey, he drew it up, so he wants to get it done _his way_. A bit uncomfortable, sure, but otherwise he treats the workers as it should be. While Zelda and Link like to push them a bit too far from comfort, Quills is more considerate to their wellbeing. 

An example of this is when they attach the roofing. Zelda and Link pushed on past lunch, in the name of progress. Quills, however, cooked up a goulash for the crews under his supervision. “Eat up, lads. I know you’re all hungry.”  
  
“Thanks,” a worker wailed from the back. 

Something obvious to Zelda, Link and Quills was how the work differed among the races. The Gorons were physically the strongest, working harder and longer than any other. The Gerudo were also strong, but taller and more willing to work with each other, compared to the Gorons who worked on their individual projects as much as possible and opted for smaller groups when needed. The Zora were tenacious, sticking to projects more than any other race and insisting they finish it themselves as opposed to letting another race do so. The Rito were odd, simultaneously working together and individually; many creating updrafts and other such pathways for other Rito to work on their own projects alone. Finally, the Hylians worked the best in groups, though they lacked the individual physical strength that the others carried.

What no-one noticed was how each group responded to a particular leader better than the others. The Gorons tended to respond best to Link, many considering him their brother. The Gerudo, on the other hand, preferred Zelda, far more used to serving a vai than any voe. The Zora usually worked best with Quills, finding kinship in his desire to do everything his way. The only odd groups were the Rito, who tended not to listen to the instructions of any of the triad in sake of their own methods, and the Hylians, who had no overall preference as to who led them, bowing to Zelda’s orders, taking heed of Link’s words and even listening to Quills.

Which begs a question, thought Quills. Are humans just reactions? Ain’t it obvious from what they portray whence given a situation? Ain't their subconscious pops up whenever they look away? If their reactions to the same setup, say a missing nail needs hammering, gains different results; and that each of their sentences, while pragmatically the same, are different if looking on a word-to-word basis, ain’t that what separates humans? If when given food, some gladly accept, some reject, and some are indifferent, whilst having basically the same food given to them, ain’t those people separate from each other; instead of coalescing into one giant unmanageable blob of thought?

He harked back to a quote, “...for we have made you, out of a man and woman, tribes and nations. This is so that you acknowledge each other, not fight for supremacy. Surely, those who are loftier than you are those of good conduct.” Hey, after all there are “...a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne….” Rhoam’s throne; Hylia’s throne. Sacred. “Is that what humans are,” Quills thought, “Conduct?”


	6. SI3151 and SI3251 Part 2: Strike, Id, and Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya! Sorry that this took awhile, overshooting the schedule by a mile. So, it turns out that I can't publish a chapter daily so the update schedule is pushed back to be at most two weeks. Believe me that lots of thought have been put to this fanfic, and that schoolwork is hell on earth to deal with. Big yikes.

Whereas the central castle was finished quickly, the eastern and western wings took longer to complete. Not only was the workforce split in two, hence the amount of work that could go into either wing was split in two, but a triad that once led well together had their styles split, with each of their flaws no longer covered by each other’s strengths. Zelda and Link’s propensity to work their labourers for longer and Quills’s perfectionism dragged each of their efforts down, along with some of the worker’s opinions of them.

Thankfully the three had their positives for the workers too. Link’s habit of working directly with his group, even when working past lunch, kept the belief that he was an unfair boss mostly at bay. Zelda’s earnest positive reinforcement kept spirits high, even during the tough parts of the job. Quills’ more fair treatment of his workers kept their opinion of him reasonable. The triad tried to comfort the workers to the best of their abilities, but still none of these stopped the complaints from slowly spreading through the ranks. Behind their backs, they spoke ill of their employers.

“I’m starving, but we have to finish this bit before we can eat. Can you believe it?” one worker in the west wing said.

“My work was great, but I was told to start again because it was a millimetre thinner than he had planned. Can you believe it?” another worker in the east wing said.

“Oh yikes.”

“Indeed, for they love the castle so much they don’t love those who worked on it,” a Gerudo woman spoke.

Tension slowly brewed. It’s as if a powder keg, the workers; waiting for the right moment to spark their anger. 

-o-0-o-

“Progress has been going more slowly than anticipated,” Quills said.

The triad sat in a room they had delegated for themselves, looking over the castle’s blueprints and a work schedule they had made prior. The rest of the workforce had been left to continue their jobs, trusted with work with the promise of an early break to motivate them to finish faster. But, the sound of it is ambient, at best; in fact, it's unexpectedly quiet.

“It’s to be expected; they’ve been split into two,” Link countered.

“We took that and more into account when writing the schedule,” Zelda replied. “Worst-case scenario, we should be matching it, but somehow we’ve fallen behind our worst expectations.”

“Really? What’s going wrong, then?” Link asked. All parties put a hand to their head; in befuddlement. 

“I don’t know if you two noticed,” Quills spoke up analytically, “but the races have been keeping to themselves a lot. The Gerudo work with other Gerudo and Gorons work with other Gorons, but they almost never work together, or with Hylians, Rito or Zora for that matter.”

“I’ve noticed that. Working separately definitely has had an effect on our progress. We should inspire them to unite more and put aside their differences.”

“I’ve had some experience with this when building Tarrey Town,” Link said. “It was on a smaller scale, but maybe we can learn from their example.”

A knock on the door interrupted any further conversation.

“Come in!” Zelda said.

The door opened and five figures came into the room, looking rightfully furious. Those people are: Bularia, Chieftain Riju’s personal bodyguard; Bludo, the founder and boss of the Goron Group Mining Company; Bazz, Captain of the Zora Knights; Kass, a well travelled Rito minstrel; and Bolson, the Hylian president of Bolson Construction. All of them cross their arms like a late 90s boy band doing an album cover photoshoot. Their frowns carry a thousand tons of the emotional, physical, and spiritual burden that the workers bestow upon the.

“What is it? Why the debacle; aren’t you supposed to be working right now?!” Quills asked.

“The workers have stopped working. We’ve bound together and refuse to do any more until we get a better deal,” Bularia said.

“A better deal? What about?” Link asked.

“We’re all dissatisfied with how you’ve been making us work for too long,” Kass said.

“No-one likes working on an empty stomach, or having their perfectly acceptable work thrown away,” Bolson explained. “Until we get a better deal or better leadership, we will not do any more work.”  
  
The triad shooketh. This is woefully out of course, nay, out of line! The **_FUCK_ ** are the workers thinking; we’re lagging away! We’re supposed to be done two weeks from now; we’re still 75% done! The triad glances at each other, then at them.

Quills rose to speak, “What concession shall we make?”

“All we ask,” Riju demanded, “is that our fulfillment be made. Lest…”

The triad cocks an eyebrow each.

Without warning, the five surrounded them, inching closer to bundle them together. Their breaths grow heavier, their hands become eager, and their glances grow more and more perverse.

“We all did this with Link; will you seal the deal the same way?” Bularia asked.

Quills and Zelda each look at Link, who in turn was having many nights of making deals flash before his eyes, a blush forming on his face.

An agreement was made, and the reader can synthesize what’s next. More to be expanded in the interlude.

-o-0-o-

The room stinks of protein and sweat. The drawing’s all mangled; torn in places, and covered in white. 

But the state of the drawing cannot compare to any of the triad, each laying on the floor listless and completely naked, save for the liquid coating that each of them now wore. Quills is surprisingly left untouched, with not much of his body covered in men’s seeds. Link and Zelda tell a different story, even if they’re silent now. Her body is covered in teeth marks, red bruises, and white icing over her delicious body. Link’s not spared from the intensity of the moment; his legs quivering like public cab drivers hollering at potential customers. His shaft thoroughly deflated like a hot air balloon post-descent. Not that you could see much of it; the only part of Link that isn’t painted white is his backside. Interestingly, while Quills’ body escaped the same covering as Link, his butt is not so lucky and filled with white liquid to the point of overflowing.

Zelda reflected on the moment past. If humans are driven by their animalistic desires, hunger, sexual needs, thirst, wouldn’t it be wise to attribute “human” on them instead? Of all the human activities, preference attribution, negotiation, philandering, work, most of them only are means to obtain said goals. Men woo women, sometimes men too, to sleep with them and release what they have so dearly held inside. People work to secure sustained flow of nutrition for their survival. They even sometimes fight massive wars over simple things, such as water, lebensraum, or a fair maiden? Shan’t humans be defined by desire? Isn’t that what they are?


	7. SI3151 and SI3251 Part 3: Furniture, Snuggle, and Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after what seems to be a long hiatus, I'm back! (^^) Since the lockdown, I've cooked up several things, including new chapters of this fanfic. No set upload schedule, since I'm bad at maintaining them (sowwy). So, stay tuned for more goodies!

With a new deal sorted, the rest of the castle was able to be finished on schedule. Instead of splitting their efforts, the triad went back to leading together, their techniques offering each of their strengths while covering each others’ weaknesses. The result was everyone being much more motivated to do the work and overall more satisfaction with the triad than previously.

Rhoam's Artifact is now back in operation… nominally. The castle is still empty, as if even Poes had abandoned it. Not many things, other than the etching in the wall, adorns Hyrule Castle. The triad is now walking around the castle, looking for inspiration on what to put inside.

"Dunno if you wanna help, Link, but I can make some things to put here," Quills offered.

"Such as…?" Link asked.

"Maybe some tables, chairs, essentials. I hadn't necessarily done much work on wood, but I vaguely have the knowledge to."

"That sounds lovely," Zelda commented. "That cuts down cost on buying other things from other sources."

Link stays quiet. Quills woke him up from his daze. "Link?"

“I wonder what the others would all add here if we asked them,” Link answered. “They helped us rebuild it and it would do good to have it represent all of Hyrule instead of just Hylians.”

“Maybe, but this is Hyrule Castle,” Zelda replied. “It represents the Hylians, like how Gerudo Town represents the Gerudo, the Zora Domain represents the Zora, Goron City represents Goron City and Rito Village represents the Rito.”

“This will be a new era,” Quills added. “You can stay apart like you always have - separate, but happy to work with each other - or you can unite together as one and live under one banner.”

“So, which one do you think we should do?” Zelda asked.

Silence. Then, a dash.

-o-0-o-

This will be the royal baths, but oh well, they thought. It’s quite spacious and, since work has been finished in this segment of the castle, devoid of workers. Inside, both Quills and Link feel at one with the tasks at hand. Manufacturing technology in Hyrule is not as advanced as they thought it would be, considering Sheikah technology can produce something akin to a hoverboard. They are only equipped with magic-esque-driven lathe, a sanding tool, some hammers, saws, and lots and lots of nails.

Quills directly grabs a scrap oak and fastens it quite tightly. Contrary to near-ADHD everyday motion, he seems at one with his vision. He can see - nay, project - what that 1920’s modernist chair leg would look like as if his eyesight alone can slice it into shape. Link looks at him attentively. He can observe what is now revealed to the reader through these words.

“I wish I was you.”

“Never say that.”

Link then proceeds to grab what seems to be a hunk of old driftwood. He saws it into an ellipse, though that does not negate the fact that there is a big hole obviously in its centre, negating its use. Once the chair leg is to his liking, only then can Quills notice what Link is doing.

“…why?”

“I want to help.”

Quills smiled; “Well, that’s a start. Maybe not that specific piece, but oh well.”

Link replies; his thin strand of a lip curls upward.

Long hours pass like a forgettable infomercial. Both men produced a myriad of furniture in between them. Chairs, divans, tables, ottomans, beds, cabinets, chests, bedposts, and many more. Both men are exhausted from all the works they have done. They sit.

Quills subconsciously lies his head onto Link’s lap.

“Hm? Q- Quills?”

“Something off-kilter, Link?”

“N- no,” Link stumbles in his sentence, “it’s just a bit... sudden. I feel that this relationship is more of a... friendly one, rather than...”

“Can’t friends be close? C’mon, it's just a head in a lap, what’s so obscene about it?”

He keeps silent about it, then under his breath he said, “Why are you like this?”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I’ve never known anyone to be this intimate in a friendship, especially not this quickly.”

“Well, I’m an intimate guy. I like getting close to people, friend or lover. If I save this for just my lovers, I get starved, and I never thought there was anything wrong with doing it with your friends.”

“What’s the difference between how you treat a friend and a lover, then?”

Quills thought for a bit. “I suppose not much,” he finally answered. “Just more intimacy and cheesy declarations of love, I guess.”

Link turned silent and started stroking Quills’ head, eliciting a smile and a cooing sound as he cuddled into Link’s lap moreso. The two stayed like that for quite some time.

As Quills head sinks heavier into Link’s extremities, he harks back to his question, “Why are you like this?” He look at the Ritos, the Hylians, the Gerudos, the Gorons; those people are nearly the same. They all eat the same, speak the same tongue, walk the same walk, do jobs similar to each other. What makes them different, he ask. Are the Gerudos better than the Ritos just because they can compose themselves better? Are the Gorons better than Hylians just because they can lift heavier objects? Are any race better than others just because of a specific trait that separates them?

Are humans better just because they have sentience? Ain’t they eat the same, walk the same, sleep the same, as all other animals? What defines a human? We did conclude, he thought, that we can’t define humans from what they do, since that is only a means to get their desires to be fulfilled, which other animals get. If we can’t give the predicate “humans” to what they do nor their desires, what separates them?

He looked at his fingers, then Link’s. He looked at his feet, then his. He got hit by that eureka moment. No, not because of what he sees, but what he thinks. He thought that maybe its all in our body. Maybe “humanness” is inside us, in the structure, in the chemistry, in the arrangement of the atoms that make us. Just like the body, “humanness” is never eternal. We always change in taste, the atoms in our body are replaced about every two weeks, so if “humanness” is acquitted to our body then it must be fleeting. Just like life, he thought. 

“Hm?” Link looked at Quills.


	8. AE3230 Part 1: The Baths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, there was a technical fault. Anyways, back to the show!

For once in their lifetime, they can breathe easy. The leaves of the oak tree tumble and glide again in the wind current. Not once did Quills stop staring at that parchment. His room is quite modern, located on the eastern wing of the castle extension, overlooking the moat-cum-scenic river encircling the castle. His hand jitter and thither, holding his pencil in confusion. “What should I add?” he thought to himself. “Is there anything to improve? If there is any, would it make the thing he’s drawing better?”

A woman, a blonde, tall and not too slender ambles into the room unannounced. He can see the floor behind her, and her dress, but he is wilfully ignorant of her presence. Her eyes are a bit wetted. She sees the panda patches on his eyes. She sees his limp, senile, docile arms forming a 90-degree angle over the table. She sees his head hanging low from all the workload he imposed on himself. For the love of knowledge and technological advancement, he worked himself into exhaustion.

"Leave me alone, Zelda. I'm having my serenity here."

Her hand is placed in his hands and his hand gently slips into hers, interlocking. "Take five, you don’t seem serene.”

Her great concern is somewhat of an annoyance, but a necessary evil of sorts. His eyes looked at her, moving at the speed of hair growing. His movements are stoically controlled, signalling running out of energy. Her eyes locked with him, like Soyuz 11 and Salyut 1; he is the limp space station, she’s the space capsule. His vantablack locks sag.

He smiles. "Maybe that's probably for the best."

Zelda pulls his hand and guides him to the royal bath, located almost across his room, behind the western wing. To access it, one must sneak through what once was King Rhoam’s bedroom, nowadays it is a library. Between the rooms is a gap wide enough to be passed through by a single man. From there, steps lead down to an underground tunnel, there are lots of them here, ending in a gilded door. The baths are a pool of warm water, surrounded with tables for massaging, should the moment arise. There are also private chambers for somewhat unsavoury purposes; but hey, it is good to be the king. Before all that is a locker for their clothes. Both waste no mirth getting themselves indecent. It seems that the two of them are enjoying each other's company, even though Quills is technically just her advisor; her vizier.

“Still looking as fit as ever,” Quills commented, with a hint of playful sarcasm.

“Is it because I don’t commute much?” Zelda playfully riposted.

The two of them sit at the edge of the pool after stripping themselves of the last shreds of their modesty, aimlessly chatting about a potpourri of topics. It is almost perceptible that Quills is Zelda's nominal handmaid. The Princess's eyes gaze up at him with admiration to his intellect and perhaps a bit of lust, desire for what he had stored for so long. She did ‘inspect’ him some time ago when they were still technically commoners. She recalled his well-endowed asset, his corpulent face and belly. Now, he is slimmed down, looking even more dreamy than the man she had planned to wed.

“Hadn’t used that ‘sword’ often?” she teasingly remarked.

“Nah.”

“Well, if I’m allowed to indulge myself, that’d be great.”

“Your Royal Highness, you  _ could _ .”

She suddenly flinches, her cheeks blushing, pinked and rose like.

What’s wrong, Princess?” Quills asked perhaps more teasingly than she should have. “Where’s the bravado you like to have?”

His words struck a chord with Zelda who, face still blushing, slides down into the water and marches in front of him in response, a determined look in her eyes. If her move surprised Quills, he does not show it, instead looking more curious. He responds by opening his legs to give her better access to his sword. Time seems to freeze for Zelda as she gets a close look at his member, her brain conflicted between a rock and a hard place. She wants to act without hesitation and yet her brain is still processing everything. A cough was pronounced from Quills. He is attempting to be smug, but both know that this would be their first.

She gingerly grabs Quills’s shaft, both flustering and yet inquisitive of the nature of his virility. The scent in the air, the ripples in the calm bath water, Zelda’s arrested breaths, all add to the sanctity of the scene before them. His shaft is hard, but bendable; clearly not fully erect yet. Despite this, it’s still an impressive sight and good to hold in her hand, even more so when she can feel it growing slightly in her hand, getting larger and harder as she holds it.

“Mmmhn.”

“Y-You’re okay, Quills?”

“I’m great. I’d be better if you kept going.”

Spurred on by Quills’s words, Zelda gives his tip a light kiss, gaining another small moan from him, before giving his member a long lick, Quills shudders at the sensation, her tongue soft and delicate as it runs up his length, but more so her eyes are meltingly sexy, nigh seductive, like whores from Gerudo. Though initially shy and hesitant, her eyes show her getting more into it as they cast a gaze into Quills’s eyes that would make one’s breath catch in their throat in a public setting, never mind a more intimate one.

“Wh-What?”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a killjoy now.”

Their lust cannot be denied any more as Zelda’s tender tongue and enticing gaze conspire to make Quills all the hornier and his cock all the harder. Zelda is happy to reward his growing member with more licks, determined to reach every area, and her eyes with a bolder, sultrier stare with every growing inch. It seems that her gaze is a sinkhole that is eating Quills’s soul away from his body. Eventually Zelda comes up, satisfied that Quills’s shaft is as hard as it will get. It’s tough in her hand, as firm and unbendable as a mighty oak tree.

“Were you always this aroused and stimulated before, Zelda?”

“Am I not a great actor, Quills? Or shall I invoke your—”

“I’d be very glad if you move on.”

Before Quills can complain, Zelda takes his hard cock into her mouth, at first only going a small distance further down than the tip. This is just an amuse-bouche on what she can do with her tunnel. It seems that, for better or worse, Quills is just chugging along for the ride.

“Mmmhn.”

“Impeccable head, girl.”

She pops off his cock. “You were saying?”

“T’was a delightful fellatio. But maybe let’s see how far we can rise, or rather how far you can descend.”

With that nigh greasy sentence uttered, Quills grabbed Zelda’s head and eases his shaft in, boring into her oesophagus. She accepts his offering as an obedient courtesan would and they got to work. Unfortunately, even with Quills’s encouraging hands, Zelda cannot quite make it all the way down his shaft, her lips merely one inch away from the bottom. Even so, Aphrodite’s arrows never miss two lovebirds in heat. Sloppy choking noises mixed with the steam, submerging, and obfuscating the scene inside. He seems to mind not, based on his looking up to the heavens as if Zelda’s throat had descended from them directly onto his cock.

“Damn, this is wonderful,” he thinks. Quills continues violating Zelda’s throat until he is visibly on the ragged edge and pulls his shaft out, now coated in spit and connected to Zelda’s mouth with several strands of saliva. Before he can make a comment, however, Zelda turns around to lay on her back, her mouth open, inviting Quills for one more try.

“Come on; I know you want to go all the way.”

“Wouldn’t I?!”

Quills lines up his tip to her mouth and slowly enters one more time. With the new position, he can see his shaft bulge through her nneck as it descends further down, until eventually he finally hilts with every thick inch buried down her throat.

“Hold on in there, would you?”

She gives the thumbs up.

He starts with a confident thrust and immediately his stamina gives up on him, forcing him into a few short, weak movements before he’s forced to take his penis out as fast as he can, but not fast enough. Just before he leaves, he erupts in Zelda’s mouth with a great groan. As he shoots his seed into her, she latches onto his tip, lightly licking and sucking it to encourage more to come out, something Quills’s cock is happy to oblige, feeding her as much as she can hold before petering out into some empty but pleasing pulses.

“Oh, god! Aaaaahn!”

Quills weakly pulls out and crawls backwards to look down on Zelda. Her mouth is open and full of cum, but, with a wink, she closes her mouth, swallows, and opens to show it now empty of all evidence.

“Ah, fuck! I-I thought I’d last longer!”

“I was gonna say: T’was disappointing, though I won’t complain about the end result," Zelda licked her lips teasingly.

“Terribly sorry, Zelda.”

He lays beside her and hugs, though Zelda was reluctant to return it in full. After a while, they took an actual bath and pretended nothing had happened. At least for now, they’re content. 


End file.
